shi-no-toge:

hanakotobawakodoku:

Entirely unaware that he had an audience, Eric kept it up. His movements were fluid, hips inspired to sway with the music and feet bouncing against the bed in time. Yes, he was the sort to go about dancing on his bed. And while he wasn’t bad at it, it seemed his balance needed a little work — for one wrong step and he was sent (in a fit of loud shouts and cursing) tumbling to the ground with a crash. Sheets tangled around his legs and hair disheveled.

“I’ll try and have something after my tea.” he said, pulling out a tin of biscuits. He brought the tin with him and sat at the table while he waited for the kettle. “It’s… good with cookies.” he said softly, setting the tin on the table. He was trying to made small talk, to distract from their high strung emotions.

But Eric wouldn’t be distracted from the confused thoughts reeling through his mind. Though his gaze rested over the inviting tin of biscuits, he didn’t think of reaching for one. He thought of the sandwiches they’d shared over hot cups of earl grey. He remembered Alan’s first swim in his arms. The kiss they’d shared in the cottage. The confessions they’d exchanged. 

“S’pose it is.” He replied without enthusiasm. For a moment longer, he let these memories consume him. “Did ye make them?”